


Rebuke

by Ariana (Ariana_El)



Series: The House of Fëanor chronicles [10]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 05:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16737760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariana_El/pseuds/Ariana
Summary: Celegorm and Curufin reach Himring after they have been banished from Nargothrond.This story is placed in a serie along with my other fics to help with chronology, but can be read separately. It's just a one-shot.





	Rebuke

**Rebuke**

Sad and bitter was the journey through destroyed lands, but Celegorm and Curufin reached at last their brother’s fortress, the last refuge of the Noldor in the North among the charred wastelands of fields, once green and fertile, now poisoned by the dragon, dead and barren like everything else around. So as Maedhros’s proud fortress appeared on the top of the hill, they were both relieved despite the prospect of having to explain their arrival.

It took some time before they went to seek their brother. They found him in the chamber used for councils, sitting alone on his place at the top of the table, studying maps, on which some new changes had been marked.

 “Brother?” Curufin’s silky voice disturbed the silence. “Is it really so bad that you cannot spare a moment to greet us?” They had already spent half a day in the fortress and Maedhros had not come to exchange even a few words.

“Have you forgotten where your chambers are?” asked the eldest son of Feanor and his sharp gaze slipped over his brothers. “I see you haven’t,” he said mockingly as he saw them refreshed after the journey. “You are a welcome support, we need every sword we can get.”

“Then why won’t you greet us as such?” Curufin swallowed his brother’s reserve and came closer. He opened his arms in a welcoming gesture, waiting for a response. “We have passed the destroyed lands, we bring news from South and West. Are you not interested?”

“Keep your smooth words for others. You will not speak to me like that, Curufinwe Atarinke!” With one swift movement Maedhros charged from his chair and stood before his brother, tall and wrathful. There was no place for understanding in his steel eyes, clouded with worries.

Curufin took half a step back, moving away from his brother. He creased his eyebrows, his features tight with anger, but Maedhros did not let him speak.

“I have heard about your deeds in Nargothrond,” he said, looking crudely at him and at Celegorm.

“So you’d rather listen to gossip and bits of information instead of learning everything from us?” Curufin’s voice shook with fury.

Celegorm rarely saw him this unnerved, or rather – he had rarely seen him like that. Since they had left Nargothrond, his younger brother had been edgy and easier than ever to anger, which still astonished him. Celegorm expected such behaviour of Caranthir or himself, and Curufin was usually the one to wield his brother’s temper. It seemed though that the recent events had shaken him and impaired his usual careful planning.

“How did the news reach you?” Curufin calmed down a bit and his voice softened again. “And how is that so that you judge us without listening to us first? Who do you trust more?”

“Be careful, for your skilful words will not work on me. And don’t even think about turning anyone here against me,” warned Maedhros and Curufin snorted, his laughter unpleasant.

“It is hard to compare you, brother, to that youngling Findarato left in charge,” he said as if offended by the mere suggestion. “Orodreth lacks experience and charisma to wield power. That cannot be said about you.”

“And I am glad you acknowledge that, for you are both now under my command,” remarked the eldest son of Feanor. “So prey tell me, what is it I got wrong.” It was said about Maedhros that his fea burned brightly since his captivity, brighter perhaps than his father’s fiery spirit, but right now Celegorm saw ice. “Is it not true that you rose the people of Nargothrond against our cousin?”

“It is true that we didn’t let him lead the whole city to its end!” retorted Celegorm; as Curufin could hardly keep his temper in check, it didn’t matter if he joined the conversation or left the talking to his younger brother, more skilled with words. “It was madness, marching on Angband witch such forces. It’s for the better that only he and those few who went with him died. And for what? For some Adan?”

“Do tell me, how Findarato’s oath was any worse than ours?” asked Maedhros, seemingly calm. “And one sworn in gratitude, not revenge?” A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. “Do you deny our cousin honour?”

“It was folly,” Curufin shrugged. “Or do you too find us guilty of the death of our golden Findarato?” he challenged.

“Findarato was the master of his own life and his decisions, just like we are,” replied Maedhros. “He didn’t know he would have to go against us when he swore his oath. But do remember that Findarato was also our friend.”

“Findarato is dead and even full forces of Nargothrond would not have been able to protect him. He knew what he was doing when he decided in our presence to go and reclaim a Silmaril.”

“So perhaps I was misled to believe that you kept Thingol’s daughter by force?” inquired Maedhros further. “That her beauty clouded you so much that you decided to imprison her and demand her for your bride?” He turned to Celegorm.

“You haven’t seen her, brother. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Celegorm shook his head. “And we wanted an ally. Just think what a marriage like this would have given us.”

“Thingol must have indeed formed a great opinion about the customs of the Noldor,” Maedhros laughed unpleasantly, “if our princes take their brides prisoner and try to force them to marriage!”

“Nelyo, that was...”

“That was unworthy of a son of Fëanaro!” Maedhros’s fist collided with the table so forcefully that documents laying at the edge were tossed on the floor. “Perhaps you have forgotten in Findarato’s hospitality, but we have a war here! We need every ally we can get and you have just deprived me of even the chance of asking for help!”

“Orodreth has no stamina for fighting,” commented Curufin in a reserved way, not daring to argue with Maedhros more openly. “Thingol would potentially have resources...” he admitted.

“And how am I supposed to ask him to aid us in our war with Morgoth?” Maedhros lowered his voice. He was no longer shouting, but his words, furious and sharp as steel, kept his brothers silent. “Thingol demanded that I help him search for his daughter after she escaped your protection,” he spat the last word with contempt. “I did not reply, for Luthien was beyond my reach by then. Dead or imprisoned, or so I thought. But now? What would you have me do, Curufinwe, if Thingol demands your heads in return for his help? Or if he demands it from Fingon, our king?”

“Perhaps he will thank us for trying to end this absurd relationship with an Adan,” mentioned Curufin, but his resolve faltered under his brother’s vigilant gaze and he told him everything about the meeting, including the fact that he had almost been strangled. He didn’t make much of a impression on his brother, though, as Maedhros’s anger was too great.

“Wonderful,” he hissed. “You aimed at his daughter, then left her alone in the forest with a dead or dying human. I see no reasons why Thingol would deny us help,” he snorted. “Luthien Tinuviel has proven that reclaiming our jewels is not impossible. I have made some steps in hopes to gather our forces back, but thanks to you my hopes of cooperating with Thingol are no longer an option.”

“This Adan went against us. The Oath...”

“Where are your people? Has the Enemy crushed them to the last soldier?” asked Maedhros, his voice venomous. “Where is your son, Curufinwe?”

“Don’t you dare to put him into this. Leave Tyelpe out of it!” Despite his anger, Curufin subconsciously used the affectionate name. Then he straightened and added proudly. “I no longer have a son.”

 “Be quiet.” Maedhros’s hand shook, clenched in a tight fist. Curufin was not the only one at the verge of losing his temper. “And get out of my sight.”

“You cannot blame us for all our failures.” Curufin crossed his arms on his chest and stared at his brother, trying to get control over the conversation. Maedhros had hit him where it hurt most and Celegorm knew Curufin was trying to keep the last remains of his dignity; they stood no chances against Maedhros.

“You are going to stay under my command. Both of you.” It took all Maedhros’s self control not to explode. “And you shall stay here unless I decide otherwise. You won’t be idle. But now. Get. Out. Of. My. Way. Curufinwe.”

Curufin had enough sense to back off. He turned around and left the chamber, furious and humiliated. Celegorm waited until the echo of his steps faded. He bowed his head slightly to Maedhros, as he would do in the presence of a superior, and only then did he follow his younger brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Good or bad, if I'd love to hear from you and know what you think about this ficlet.


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